Dual Enrollment
by Cathaign
Summary: The slayer activation during "Chosen" calls on a 10 year old Hermione Granger. Slayer. Witch. Genius. Prepare to take the worlds by storm.
1. Chapter 1

Dual Enrollment TTH Version

Chapter One

Title: Dual Enrollment  
Rating: PG-13  
Fandom(s): BtVS/ Harry Potter  
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling, respectively.  
Summary: AU verse, and I have definitely played with the timelines to get this to work. Book 1 of Harry Potter happens two years after "Chosen". Hermione Granger, Slayer in Training, receives a strange letter delivered by an owl, and receives it rather late.

Prologue: Ready to be Strong  
Once upon a time, (because that's how all good tales begin) not so far away or very long ago, a little girl was born. Her parents, dentists of high repute, named her Hermione, and they loved her very, very much.

She began to grow and thrive on knowledge and her parents' attentive love and support.

When she was one, in another part of England nearing the end of July, two boys were born. Both of them were the apples of their parents' eyes. Neville and Harry, for all intents and purposes, were very happy babies with many doting relatives and pseudo relatives.

On Halloween of Hermione's second year in the land of the living, her parents carved pumpkins to welcome young trick or treaters, and keep evil spirits at bay, they jokingly added.

Harry and Neville had both recently turned one. They faced a far more terrifying holiday. By the end of the night, identical skulls with slithering snakes glowed an eerie green above both houses. Inside Neville's house, his parents lay writhing on the floor as pain manipulated their muscles and broke their minds. At little Harry's house, no sound emerged but that of the baby's wails. His mother lay next to him, eyes wide and mouth opened in a silent scream, not a mark on her, but dead. His father lay not far away, sprawled lifelessly by the nursery door. On Harry's forehead sat an angry red, lightning bolt shaped scar.

Men in uniform red robes swept through both houses ad put the children in the care of an elderly gentleman with hair and beard reaching past his slightly stooping waist who was dressed in outlandish and colorful robes not befitting the tragedy that had so recently occurred.

The elderly man, one Albus Dumbledore, inspected his prospects of where to send the children. After careful deliberation, he sent Neville to live with his Grandmother, and Harry to his mother's sister.

The first was an easy choice. The second, however, seemed to be a tumultuous situation. Sending the savior of the Wizarding World to live with Wizard hating muggles was not always his favorite option. But Voldemort could come back, or at least his followers could. The safest place to be, magically speaking, was with these horrible people.

Merlin help him.

Meanwhile, the Grangers slept soundly through the night, completely unaware of the brewing war.

~*~*~*~*

In the cloudless summer afternoon sun, Hermione Granger sat on the green lawn in front of her parents' modest house in a suburb of London, reading a book most ten year olds wouldn't dare to pick up. It was large and hard bound, almost dwarfing her small frame whilst she bent her frizzy head to better read the words before her. The book in question was the latest mathematical text, one on the basics of algebra and its uses.

"So, if x equals y, and x is zero, then y is zero," the young girl mumbled to herself as she worked the example problem on a piece of scratch paper.

Suddenly, she dropped the book.

An alien, but familiar voice echoed in her head, accompanied by a montage of strange images. She saw girls of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and backgrounds fighting and in various forms of historical dress. How odd, she though to herself absentmindedly.

It whispered, _Are you ready to be strong?_

Hermione thought of all the times the prettier girls had teased her mercilessly about her bird's nest hair and her buck teeth, and how the boys stole her books and threw them in the mud. She thought of how no one cared what happened to her at school, because she was smart, different. She remembered teachers telling her to "buck up" and stand up for herself.

She wanted to, badly. But she wasn't strong enough. She didn't know how to stand up for herself. She wished she could tell those girls that she'd be successful someday, and they would be unhappily married to the first boy that kissed them. She dreamed of being able to hold onto her books and protect them.

Most of all, she wanted to keep her parents from worrying about her constantly.

So she answered the voice clearly, "I'm ready."

Then, a new presence invaded her mind, although it was not unwelcome. The presence, undoubtedly female, was both fierce and comforting. Hermione felt as though she had met an old friend, but for the first time in this strange dichotomy.

Then, as quickly as it had come about, the presence disappeared from her consciousness. She shook her head to clear the lingering fogginess, picked up her book, and started reading again.

As with most children, strange happening do occur. Hermione simply wrote the voice off as her imagination. She did not inform her parents of the occurrence. Days passed, and the incident slowly faded from her young mind as she immersed herself once again in books and learning over her summer break.

Then, about a month later, strange things began to happen. She went to help her mother set the table for dinner, and as she brought the glasses out to the dining room table, she squeezed one.

It shattered.

Her nights became more restless as this indefinable need to hunt tried to drive her out of the safety of her home and into the darkness. During the day, she grew more and more irritated. Circles formed under her eyes, and weariness clung to her young body like a miasma.

Doctor and Doctor Granger grew more worried as each day passed. They watched their daughter transform from a slightly reticent but bright child into a waif. The looked on from their places at the table as Hermione picked at her food, too tired to actually eat.

Another week drew to a close before their questions would be answered.

The doorbell rang on a bright Saturday morning. Doctor David Granger answered it after checking in on his fading child, turning the knob with some hesitation. The family was not expecting any visitors.

On the other side of the white door stood the most strange array of people he had ever seen. A young redhead in a long dress reminiscent of the hippie era smiled brightly in the front of the group, flanked by a scruffy, dark haired man wearing an eye patch, a fashionable, short blond, and an older gentleman in tweed and a waistcoat. The young man had ducked slightly, as though embarrassed, when Doctor Granger had opened the door, and the blond had been scanning her surroundings. The dentist was no expert on human behavior, but he found both actions to be odd.

The elder gentleman spoke first in a crisp British accent, not unlike his own. "Doctor Granger? I understand your daughter has been experiencing some… difficulties the past week or so."

The comment, meant to soothe from the sounds of it, put the dentist on edge. "What do you mean, difficulties? Hermione's always been a bright girl. She doesn't have difficulties."

The man raised his eyebrow. "You may have noticed things breaking quite a bit, restlessness at night, and some irritability."

"I have no idea what you speak of. Good day." Doctor Granger began to close the door when the redhead spoke, a clearly American accent jarring him from the task at hand.

"She's been dreaming. Someone asks her if she's ready to be strong."

The father in him, worried for his daughter's sanity, stopped fully and pondered the notion that these people could possibly know what was causing his only child's unrest.

"Helen," he called into the house, "get Hermione and meet me in the sitting room. We have guests!"

The rag tag group swept past him before he could issue and invitation. As he opened his mouth to comment on the rudeness, the blond spoke up.

"Rule number three: never invite a person in verbally." The blond smiled and brushed past him.

Doctor Granger shook his head as he closed the door. Today, he felt, would be quite a long and harrowing day.

First Days...

Hermione looked up from her back seat window at the large, gothic group of buildings, eyes wide with trepidation and excitement. It was a week before her first year at Sineya's Daughters Academy for Gifted Girls, and her parents were moving her into the dorms early. Willow and Buffy, as they told her to call them, seemed to think it best that she move in and start a bit earlier than everyone else because she would be taking twice the classes that anyone else would be.

"Gyah!" she shrieked, and jumped off the seat of the car. She turned to glare at the offending shoulder tapper, her grinning father.

"It's nice to know you still get lost in your thoughts, Pumpkin. Now, out of that car! It's a new school and we've quite a bit of moving in to do!"

She nodded and hefted the rather large duffel bag over her shoulder, exiting the hatchback her parents had owned since her birth. Her mother already unpacked part of the trunk, two battered and sticker-covered suitcases and the beginnings of a the boxes. She didn't get to bring nearly as many books as she would have liked, but her parents reasoned that she would have access to a library full of books she had not yet read.

Her mother glanced around the campus. "Well, it's certainly large."

Hermione snorted. "You think it's not very welcoming and somewhat ugly, don't you, Mum?"

Helen Granger nodded. "Absolutely. It doesn't seem like a school for young girls."

From across the immaculate lawn came a familiar blond figure. Buffy smiled at the family. She'd heard what they said about the campus, and once she was close enough for everyone to hear, she said, "It's way less dreary on the inside, I promise. The outside just looks like it always has. Old, stuffy, and kinda Watchery." She shrugged.

"Oh well. Let's get you to your rooms. They're pretty neat!"

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Rooms?"

"Yeah, rooms. Everybody bunks two to a room, with three bedrooms connected to a bathroom and a small living room for studying and stuff. The girls in your suite will be in different classes with you. You'll be rooming with a fellow slayer, one room will have some watchers in training, and another will have two of our witches in training. Yours is kinda special because of the magical abilities and stuff you had when we tested your strengths. Mostly we stick slayers with slayers, but we figured it might be fun to shake things up."

The small group trekked to the dormitory building carrying half of the load from the car, with Buffy and Mr. Granger holding most of it. Hermione could have carried more, weight wise, but she was not quite tall enough to see around all the boxes. Thus, she wheeled the two luggage bags along and carried a box with her stuffed bunny, Mortimer.

They walked into the deceptively ominous building to find the interior far different from the exterior. The lobby was painted a cheery yellow and housed white boards labeled with headings like "Chores", "Patrol", "Study Groups", "Movie Suggestions", and many others. There were colorful bean bags strewn throughout the room, as well as comfortable chairs, coffee tables, card tables, a large projector screen, couches, easels, and big potted plants.

Hermione studied it all with wonder. She would be living here. Here! It was a kind of wonder land. Perfect for studying, but also allowed a relaxing and fun environment for play.

"Now," Buffy said, catching her attention, "you're going to be on the third floor, room 316, bedroom B. That's the middle one. I just got a page I have to answer. If you need anything, Vi is your RA, and she's hanging out here at the front desk."

The redhead behind the pink counter waved at the mention of her name and smiled. Hermione waved back shyly.

Buffy skipped out of the room (did that girl ever just walk?), and left the Granger family to their own devices.

~*~*~*~*~

Up on the third floor, the Grangers did end up finding the room, and they propped the heavy wooden door open with a rubber doorstop they found. The beds, though barren, were not bunked. There wasn't a need, from what Hermione could see. The rooms were very large, containing two twin beds, two writing desks, Two sets of dressers, a large open closet divided in half, and two night stands. The walls were white, but did not give the sense of a prison. The window, located between the two beds, was a bay window and was large and inviting.

The family set to work, going down in separate trips to grab more boxes while the remaining two unpacked and arranged things to the ten year old's liking in an efficiency born of many family vacations.

When they had finished, the paused to survey their handy work. Hermione's side of the room was decorated in earth tones and bronze metallic accents, her books stacked neatly on the desk. Her clothes were hung orderly by color in the closet, and her folded things placed neatly in drawers. They had decorated the walls with antiqued maps and some oil prints of landscapes that they had aquired on those previous vacations, as well as pictures of the family.

Hermione was quite pleased with her room. It was going to be a wonderful year, she decided.

First Days...

Her first full day was long. Early bird that she was, Hermione rolled out of bed around six, stumbled to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and showered. Once clean, she twisted her mass of wet hair into a bun, locked it in place with a pony tail holder, and dressed herself in what she was told were the morning uniform, grey sweatpants, white t-shirt, and a matching grey zip up hoodie all with the SDA logo emblazoned on some part of the articles.

She wrinkled her nose a bit. It seemed unprofessional to dress in such a manner.

She glanced over at her clock, which read nearly seven thirty. She had told Vi yesterday after her parents left that she would meet the woman in the lobby at seven forty-five. Plenty of time.

She glanced in the mirror again and took in her terrified face. Then, she breathed deeply and told herself, "You can do this. You are a smart, capable girl."

It did not lift her spirits like she thought it would.

So, she pulled on her socks, shoved her feet into her shoes, grabbed her room key and her school I.D. badge, and headed down the hallway to the stairs.

In the lobby, Vi was waiting for her, dressed nearly identical.

The redhead smiled at the ten year old as she came down the stairs.

"Ready for breakfast?" Vi asked.

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice should she be so nervous as to squeak.

"Alrighty then, I'm starved!"

With that, Vi began walking, and Hermione followed.

The walk was actually quite calming. The morning brought with it fog and dew, so the whole lawn smelled of cool grass and freshly fallen rain. Although it was summer, the nights cooled the temperatures considerably until well into mid-morning. This left the mornings comfortable and fresh. With these surroundings, Hermione didn't feel so alone and scared. She could get lost in the history of these buildings, she decided.

The short, leisurely walk led the two to a moderately sized two story building.

"Home sweet mess hall!" cried Vi.

It was nice and airy inside, despite the deceptively ominous exterior. There were tables, round and square, scattered around the room, all in bright, fun colors. The chairs that sat around the tables were mismatched and had signatures on the backs.

Hermione tugged on Vi's sleeve. "Excuse me, but why is there writing on the backs of the chairs?"

"Well," she replied, "Those signatures are from all the first year students all over the world. Every time a new student comes in or visits this school because it's home base, they come in and sign the back of the chair."

"Oh. Why?"

Vi chuckled internally. "It's our way of remembering every single girl because they're our sisters."

"I like that," Hermione said hesitantly.

"Now, let's head over to the grub line. I'm starved!"

They both picked up the hard plastic trays and slid them across the bars in front of the food. An olive green... figure... with horns and yellow eyes gave them what could only be considered a toothy grin with snaggled, pointy teeth.

"What'll it be," it-he-she(?) asked in a deep gravelly voice.

Vi was unfazed. "Heya Burt! I need two short stacks of your awesome blueberry pancakes, bacon, sausage, orange juice, and a waffle."

The older slayer put a stack of pancakes on her tray and one on Hermione's, and split the meat and waffle too. After she had secured her orange juice, she nodded to Burt and he handed over a second. She plopped that on Hermione's tray as well.

They sat, and ate in silence. Hermione was still nervous being the only student in the school.

After they finished, Vi stood up and said, "You've got a long day ahead of you. I'm gonna take you to the main building, and you're going to meet some of your teachers, okay?"

Hermione nodded.

"Alrighty. Let's do this." She tapped Hermione's shoulder and gave her a playful shove. "Don't worry. I'll be at the dorm finishing up some paper work, and all the girls are really nice, except Kennedy. But she doesn't teach."

That was the beginning of her long, tiring day.

She met with her teachers, Willow for magic training, Faith for her morning slayer classes, Chao-Ahn for her evening classes, and an elderly gentleman named Donald for her research and history classes.

"Now," said Mr. Giles, "these are just your classes for the mystical aspect of school. Once the regular year starts, we will cut back on your mystical class hours and add in maths, science, English, and two electives of your choice. Does that sound alright?"

"Yes sir. I like learning," Hermione said.

***

That was how she found herself, at six o' clock in the evening, running laps around the entire campus for the second time that day. Earlier, they had done what Faith called strength training. Hermione called it torture. Push ups, sit ups, weight lifting, stretches that pulled her in every direction. She hurt. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She liked her magic class. Willow was fun and taught her about control and the responsibility of using magic, and they worked on centering and meditations so she could easily find her magic.

Donald was fun too. She loved being trusted around old books, and she had come across a language she'd never seen, so while she learned history, Donald also began teaching her this new language.

She finally collapsed when Chao-Ahn blew the whistle and began trudging back to her dorm to shower before dinner.

She stood under the spray, letting it soak her hair and soothe her muscles. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lathered the bodywash and scrubbed all the sweat and grime from her body, ran conditioner through her hair, and scrubbed her face. Once she felt human again, she turned off the water and dried off. She dressed in a clean pair of sweats because anything else was too difficult to deal with. Then, she began the trek down stairs to the lobby, where she was met by Vi again, who walked with her to the mess.

When they arrived, all the staffers were sitting at tables, laughing and eating. They waved the two over after they had run through the line. It was Japanese tonight, a mix of yaki and sushi and somen. Hermione had never tried it before, but found she liked it.

It was a good end to a long day.

Learning things...

Title: Dual Enrollment  
Chapter: 4  
Disclaimer: I own neither HP nor BtVS. I'm just mangling these fandoms for fun.  
Chapter Summary: In which Hermione's week fascinates her.  
Notes: Spoilers through BtVS season 7- season 8 is AU and does not follow the comic. Also, please be aware that the whole "informed consent" issue is being dealt with as follows: The question went through these girls' heads in a split second when the scythe was activated. They can answer yes or no based on their gut feeling. However, they can choose to stay out of the fighting once they are trained in using and controlling their gifts as well as the basics of self defense and martial arts should a demon (or human) feel the need to get a little handsy. Hermione is a special case because she is both magically inclined as well as imbued with slayer power.  
Another Note: This chapter is less action and more introspective, and thus it will be shorter. Next chapter I will try to work in more characters, and maybe in the next two do a complete HP chapter to show the parallel with the Hogwarts crew at the same time.

After that first grueling day, things began to get easier for Hermione. Slowly, although faster than the average human, she raised her stamina. Her instructors ran her ragged each morning and late afternoon, while between the two physically exhausting Slayer sessions, she had the opportunity to escape.

She dearly loved her academic classes.

The magic classes seemed odd at first, but after Willow had showed her the practical uses of levitating a pencil and meditation to organized all the information stored inside her brain, she began to enjoy those as well.

She really did love reading all those books.

Every day after lunch, Hermione would go to the library to begin her session, surrounded by ancient tomes and scrolls. Her Watcher had her learning Latin, Sumerian, and several not-so-dead languages. She had turned her nose up on Sumerian, originally, but with the sheer number of prophecies written in the language, she learned it was better to understand the original than having to rely on what well may be a poor translation. Although, the English translation of the German translation of a demon description originally in Sumerian entertained her thoroughly.

The library once again housed her sanctuary, far away from the bruises and sweat she found alien. Despite enjoying the library, Hermione also felt apprehensive and excited about the upcoming term. What would the other girls be like? Would her roommates like her? Would she like them? She asked herself these very questions as she poured over the manuals and required texts- _Slaying 101: How to Identify the Real Enemy_, _Basic Circles, Charms, and Runes_, _The Slayer Handbook: How to Not Die_, _Magick: the Rules of Power_, and her personal favorite, various Watcher's Journals.

On top of all the learning Hermione acquired her first week in, she also adapted to living with demons. At first, coming from a completely oblivious background, she found manners difficult because she would forget them in lieu of staring. Now, she spoke with most of the demonic- non human as some liked to be called- on a first name basis, and held them in the highest regard. They were after all her elders, and she just a young girl.

That was another unusual bit about this school. The teachers remained extremely informal. None asked to be called "sir" or "ma'am", and most required Hermione to call them by their first names as well. Hermione supposed it had something to do with the lack of age difference between the eldest students and the teachers.

She flipped another page in the handbook, past the introduction to the first chapter, Rule one. Rule One held a short, simple heading. "Don't Die".

Hermione thought it good advice.

Time blurred for Hermione as she filled each day with more exercise than she had ever wanted, more learning than she could ever hope for, and more food than she could ever eat. All to soon, Fall arrived, and her quite sanctuary, her room, began filling up with girls.

Her actual roommate was a sweet girl from Germany, with a winsome smile and constantly rosy cheeks.

"Good afternoon," the girl said cheerfully upon her arrival, "my name is Leisl. These are my parents, Heirr und Frau Hoffmann."

Hermione smiled shyly and replied, "'ello. My name is Hermione. I guess we're roommates?"

Leisl nodded, the gesture making her dishwater blond curls bounce about her face. "That is what the lady- Rona?- told me downstairs. I am hoping we have," she paused, searching for a word, "we have wonderful year together."

Hermione smiled again, more openly now. "I hope so too." The diminutive brunette turned to Leisl's parents to include them in the conversation.

"Would you like some help bringing her things up?" she asked.

The Hoffmanns smiled and nodded appreciatively.


	2. Chapter 2

Time blurred for Hermione as she filled each day with more exercise than she had ever wanted, more learning than she could ever hope for, and more food than she could ever eat. All to soon, Fall arrived, and her quite sanctuary, her room, began filling up with girls.

Her actual roommate was a sweet girl from Germany, with a winsome smile and constantly rosy cheeks.

"Good afternoon," the girl said cheerfully upon her arrival, "my name is Leisl. These are my parents, Heirr und Frau Hoffmann."

Hermione smiled shyly and replied, "'ello. My name is Hermione. I guess we're roommates?"

Leisl nodded, the gesture making her dishwater blond curls bounce about her face. "That is what the lady- Rona?- told me downstairs. I am hoping we have," she paused, searching for a word, "we have wonderful year together."

Hermione smiled again, more openly now. "I hope so too." The diminutive brunette turned to Leisl's parents to include them in the conversation.

"Would you like some help bringing her things up?" she asked.

The Hoffmanns smiled and nodded appreciatively.

Between the two ten year olds, the Hoffmann adults, and several slayer supervisors, Leisl Hoffman was unpacked just in time for the other suite mates to start drifting in.

Two of the witch girls roomed in the far right bedrooms, and two watchers in the left, thus flanking the designated slayer bedroom. The witches were their age, luckily, but the watcher girls were older, middling teens.

As more and more girls trickled into the dorms, the cacophony of sound drowned out any memory of comforting silence for Hermione. Even with sweet Leisl by her side, she felt overwhelmed.

One of the watchers from her suite, Jessica, noticed the little bushy headed slayer tense. She unobtrusively made her way through the throng of people to her dormitory's living room door. "Hermione, is everything quite alright? You seem a bit peaky."

Hermione looked up, startled, then relaxed slightly, seeing it was one of her new aquaintences. "Oh, I think so. There are just so many people. It's... a bit scary."

Jessica smiled a little, just the tiniest upturning of her mouth. It was almost like being home with her younger sister. "Not many folk in your suburb coming and going? Well, don't you worry. We'll slip right on through and get down to the mess. I'm famished. Let's round up all the girls, and get in line before the crowd, yeah? I hear you're already on friendly terms with the cooks."

Hermione hesitantly nodded, and the six girls and ten adults braved the jungle of suitcases, boxes, slayers, witches, watchers in training, and parents. Once safely out of the dorm building, they ambled along the path to the mess hall.

Nine year old Harry James Potter sat on his aunt's and uncle's front porch, sunburned and feeling more than a little alone. He had not managed to weed the garden as fast or as neatly as his Aunt Petunia would have liked. Therefor, he was being punished. No supper for Harry, no sirree.

A small, nearly gaunt hand pushed messy black tufts of hair from bespectacled green eyes.

He just... didn't know what he had done wrong. He couldn't have weeded the garden faster, not with having to wait for Dudley to finish lunch before cleaning the kitchen, and mowing the lawn. Sometimes, Harry felt like his family hated him just because, and they deliberately made things too difficult to finish so they would have reason to punish him.

At least Aunt Petunia hadn't tried to cut his hair again. The last time had been a disaster the family was forbidden to speak of, involving istrange things/i.

Harry knew that his family did not like strange things of any sort. They were very proud of being, what they considered, perfectly normal. Harry didn't see how having an uncle and cousin the size of baby whales and an aunt so gaunt she looked like a horse was necessarily normal, but he figured that it was normal for him.

He heard raucous laughter from inside, and then a temper tantrum from Dudley, signifying dessert had probably been finished, and he would soon be called in to clean up the mess.

He was right.

As the sun dipped behind the rows of boringly similar houses and trees, his aunt, with her face pinched and puckered as though she'd sucked on a lemon, opened the door and briskly ushered him inside.

"Remember, you, you don't eat anything while you clean. No scraps! I have my eye on you!"

With that, Harry sighed and began first taking all the whole dishes to the kitchen sink, ran water with soap to soak them, and returned to the dining area to clean the pie and broken dessert plate from the carpet and the wall.


End file.
